


An (Unsuccessful) Attempt at Taking Things Slow

by help_me_no



Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [2]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strength Kink, confirmation of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/help_me_no/pseuds/help_me_no
Summary: Theseus has plans to take things slow for his first time with Asterius. Those plans go somewhat awry.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125833
Comments: 8
Kudos: 255





	An (Unsuccessful) Attempt at Taking Things Slow

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot can easily be read on it’s own (since it’s mostly smut with a little build-up), but it does follow-up the previous work in this series if you want context and more sexual tension.

Theseus hurls his spear one last time through their latest opponent. This shade has attempted to beat the champions multiple times in the arena now, to no success. Asterius insists this hero is quite famous. Theseus insists he can’t be that famous if he hasn’t heard of him.

Theseus had then proclaimed he would not bother remembering this hero’s name until he defeated them in battle, and Asterius had sighed because they both knew that was an impossible ultimatum. This many fights in, their opponent has shown no improvement, no indication he will ever come to any revelations on how to win. Privately, Theseus has reveled in having spotted at least six weaknesses he could resolve, and four consistent mistakes where he uses one of his techniques where another would be far more effective. It would not be enough to beat the pair, but Theseus delights in exposing these failings to Asterius, thus proving his own tactical prowess.

Even more of a delight has been working with Asterius to come up with ways to counter those changes (should the hero ever discover them). There’s only two left that they have yet to develop a plan for, but as the hero disintegrates, Theseus thinks he may have the beginning of one. He carefully shelves the thought to discuss with Asterius at a later time.

For now, the crowd is screaming their names, while a handful of fans for their opponent cry out in disbelief and frustration. (That’s almost as good as their own fans’ joy, and Theseus will not hesitate to admit it.) Theseus’s muscles ache in the most fantastic way, and his heartbeat is still pounding in his ears, and his thoughts are rushing a million miles a minute. He feels strong and invincible and proud of himself and proud of his partner. And that is all before he belatedly realizes he can _touch_ Asterius now, heap praise upon him that is not just verbal.

They haven’t done anything but kiss, at least not since the recent turn to their relationship. Theseus’s mind helpfully provides him with a flood of memories, both before and after. The ache of Asterius’s touch, of his teasing, feels delicious now, where it once felt like torture.

Theseus is planning in his head how he will lay Asterius back in his bed, lavish him with praise, take things slow as molasses and just as sweet, while his body throws his arms up to the crowd. He shouts his thanks on autopilot, tells the crowd it is all due to their support, but his brain is wrapped up in images of being able to run his hands across every inch of Asterius’s body. He’s thinking about if his jaw will accommodate his dream of sucking down Asterius’s cock, when suddenly he feels warmth and pressure at his back.

“My king,” Asterius rumbles, and Theseus can feel it as much as he hears it, and then massive hands grip his waist and hoist him into the air.

He obligingly waves to the stands as Asterius jogs a lap around the arena, while he frantically tries to think of the most unappealing things he can to keep from spilling in his undergarments then and there. Asterius lowers him to the ground when they reach the doorway, and Theseus is sure it is some sort of miracle that he manages to walk through it on his own legs.

The door shuts behind them in the small antechamber they have, used for weapon storage and preparation before a fight. Theseus can sense Asterius still behind him, and he tells himself he just needs to feel Asterius’s bulk to take the edge off. He won’t do anything sexual yet, because he has _plans_ for when they return to their private rooms.

He turns, finds himself staring down Asterius’s thick chest and cut abs, and promptly buries his face in Asterius’s fur. This is still fine, he assures himself, as he wraps his arms around Asterius’s back. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying an embrace with Asterius, and they had done so plenty as friends. This need not be different.

Asterius laughs (and Theseus desperately tries to ignore the way the vibration of it feels), and reaches down his own hands to embrace Theseus.

“Are you alright, my king?”

Asterius’s voice is so gentle and amused and tender, and Theseus thinks to himself, ‘ _he loves you_ ’ and despite his best attempts, that thought shatters his restraint. He can’t stop himself, and he pushes onto his tiptoes to grind himself against Asterius’s thigh.

He’s making muffled little noises into Asterius’s chest, and he can feel the weight of Asterius’s own hard cock nudging against his sternum, and he can’t keep his mouth shut, even as he can feel his spit dampening Asterius’s fur.

“Needy, Theseus?” Asterius asks as he resettles his hands on Theseus’s hips, and drags him up higher, and Theseus comes in his smallclothes with a half scream.

He turns his head to gasp air back into his lungs, and Asterius gently lets him back down to the ground, still holding him upright as his legs tremble.

“I— I am quite sorry Asterius! I could not help myself, you are magnificent and I— I had _plans_!” He remembers, indignant with himself.

“Hm,” Asterius hums, sounding amused from somewhere above Theseus’s head. “That’s a shame,” and before panic can hit Theseus, he continues, “I rather enjoyed it.”

Theseus tips his head back (far enough to be uncomfortable, but always, _always_ worth it) to meet Asterius’s eyes, gaping in shock. Asterius’s gaze is amused and tender and enraptured and heated all at the same time.

Asterius sits back on a bench, pulling Theseus with him and into his lap. It’s a fraction of his strength, not nearly enough to actually force Theseus to move, but he stumbles forward eagerly, the gentleness and consideration as hot as the manhandling.

Asterius pulls him forward to press them together, and Theseus can feel the odd sensation of Elysium telling him his normal body could not get hard again so fast, but here, if he wills it—

“Yes, yes, yes, _yes!_ ” Theseus chants—to himself, to his body, to Elysium, to Asterius.

Asterius is laughing again, but Theseus pays it no mind (or rather, part of him drinks it in, thrills at making the minotaur so relaxed and happy). Theseus instead focuses on working a hand between them, hiking up their tunics and the thick leather strips that serve as light armor, and desperately trying to untie the knots that secure their undergarments. He manages to undo his own (ignoring the mess he left inside), but can’t seem to manage Asterius’s, and so with a grunt of frustration, he simply tugs it down to pull Asterius out.

Asterius is hot and huge. Next to him Theseus looks tiny and Theseus buries his face in Asterius’s chest again to force his gaze away. Perched up on Asterius’s lap like this lands Theseus right between his pecs, which are plush yet firm and Theseus wants to reach up and squeeze them but he doesn’t want to let Asterius’s cock go. (Distantly that thought reminds him that he has to use both hands to hold Asterius properly and he groans.)

He’s rambling something, but he can’t focus enough to figure out what he’s saying, and he’s likely too muffled for Asterius to understand, yet he can’t stop running his mouth.

Asterius reaches down and pulls Theseus’s hands away, and he whines in protest, and tries to fight it, but Asterius uses just enough strength that it’s futile.

“As _terius!_ ” Theseus cries, turning his head, “What are you doing! I want it, please, let me touch you my love. I’ll _die_ if I can’t, you must—“

Asterius shushes him gently as he releases his hands. Theseus tries to quickly reach back down but Asterius is fast enough to grabs his wrists again before they reach their destination.

“ _Please_ , do you—“ A horrifying thought strikes Theseus, and he squirms backwards so he can see Asterius’s face. Asterius releases him quickly and looks just as horrified, and Theseus feels his stomach plummet.

“Do you not want it?”

The frightened look melts away from Asterius’s expression, and he gently runs his hands down Theseus’s arms.

“You know I do, and that if I did not, I could stop you.”

Vaguely reassured, but now confused, Theseus can’t help but frown. “You _are_ stopping me.”

“Ah.”

Asterius leans down and nuzzles Theseus’s cheek. Theseus leans into it.

“Then trust that I will tell you if you do something I dislike. And I will trust you to do the same. Is that amenable to you?”

Theseus nods, and rests his head back on Asterius’s chest, but continues his line of inquiry, still unsure where the misunderstanding lay.

“Did I do something wrong, Asterius?”

“No, nothing wrong, merely...” Asterius pauses. “Can you trust me to show you?”

“Of course, Asterius, _always_.”

Asterius rumbles a warm, contented noise, and then grips Theseus’s hips and drags him forward. Their dicks press together and it’s hot and hard and incredible and a little wet with Theseus’s previous orgasm and Theseus ruts forward despite himself.

Asterius’s voice is rough and halting now when he speaks; “Your hands were merely—“ He cuts off briefly with a groan. “—In the way, as they were. You may return them now, if you— if you wish.”

Theseus barely registers what he says, half-incoherent with the pleasure of finally touching Asterius.

“I— no— that— it’s good, Asterius. It’s so good. I do not need—“ His hands scramble against Asterius’s sides, fingernails unable to do any real damage through the short fur.

Asterius is groaning, and Theseus thinks his sounds of pleasure are the best part of this, even more so than the sensations he feels. Then Asterius’s hips move, thrusting up against Theseus, and Theseus thinks _that’s_ the best part. They’re both loud in their own ways, echoing through the small room, and accompanied by the wet sound of their lengths sliding against each other, or the slap of their thighs when one of Asterius’s thrusts is so hard that it bounces Theseus into the air for a moment.

Theseus comes, cock spurting only a little after his previous orgasm, but Asterius bellows and more than makes up for it. Theseus is soaked from the tunic bunched up around his waist down to his thighs, and before either of them can come down from it he decides to take them both in hand (or hands, as it were).

 _Again, again, again_ , he thinks, uncertain if he’s also chanting it aloud or not, but Elysium and Asterius both oblige, and they both quickly grow hard again beneath his hand. His grip is surely stuttering and he keeps grinding in fits and starts, sometimes overwhelmed by the pleasure, but when he stills, Asterius easily takes up the pace himself.

Asterius hands are so huge that his grip on Theseus’s hips is essentially a grip on his ass as well, and it takes the barest shift for Asterius to rub the tip of a finger against Theseus’s hole. Theseus’s hips buck once, he wails, and the third orgasm hits him so hard he promptly passes out.

He opens his eyes to Asterius gently laying him in bed (Asterius’s bed, judging by the size of it). Asterius must notice his stirring, because he speaks as he sits next to him.

“We are quite lucky Elysium shifts its layout as it does, for it would have been quite embarrassing carrying your unconscious body back to our home as you were.”

Theseus rubs his thighs together and realizes that one, they are clean, and two, he is still bare beneath a seemingly fresh tunic. His previous garments are draped across a chair, still obviously splattered and damp, and Asterius’s small washbasin has a wrung out towel draped over the lip. A laugh startles out of him.

“Did you leave my undergarments at the arena? You carried me home, exposed like this?”

Asterius looks away, embarrassed.

“It was one doorway, my king. Elysium led us straight here.”

Theseus pushes himself up on his knees to crawl over to Asterius. He cups one hand around his jaw, tilting Asterius’s head to face him.

“Filthy,” he teases gently, speaking directly against Asterius’s mouth.

Asterius huffs in mock-hurt, but leans in to kiss Theseus.

Theseus has, at some point during their languid kissing, crawled in Asterius’s lap, when he realizes that Asterius is still half-hard, and they are home, and Theseus may have delayed his initial plans, but he can put them into action now.

He pushes Asterius back onto the bed, and sits back, pleased, to drink in the sight of the minotaur, disheveled and hard and panting amidst tangled sheets.

“I would worship you, my friend,” he says softly, as he begins to kiss his way up Asterius’s stomach.

Asterius rests a gentle hand in his hair.

“You should be careful my king, the gods are known to be jealous.” Asterius speaks lightly, but Theseus responds in full seriousness.

“As they should be. You are magnificent, and I should think any creature with eyes and a brain would envy your body.”

Something disquiet shifts across Asterius’s face.

“You know that historically has not been the case.”

“Perhaps,” Theseus replies, pausing to trace his tongue in the divots of Asterius’s abs. “But they are all fools. I _would_ be envious, except that I get to behold you, to touch you, and that is even better!”

Asterius shivers below him, and Theseus hides his grin against Asterius’s ribs. He takes his time, like he first planned, learning what Asterius’s body feels like everywhere he had imagined, everywhere he had eaten up with his eyes when he saw Asterius nude. He lavishes praise on him all the while, enjoying the way Asterius looks away, flustered, before turning back to watch Theseus again.

Finally, after what could be minutes or hours or days, Theseus situates himself between Asterius’s thighs, and wraps both hands around his cock. This time he watches intently, catalogs every response—when Asterius lets out a particularly shaky breath, when Asterius’s head thrashes against his sheets, when his hips buck. He files each observation into the part of his brain dedicated to memorizing Asterius’s body language. He’s half-hard again too (bless Elysium and all the benefits of dwelling here), but after so many orgasms its mild and undemanding, and he grinds down into the sheets lazily, rather that devote any energy to it.

When Theseus is satisfied with the knowledge he has carefully accumulated, he puts it to good use at a far more aggressive and targeted pace. Asterius groans, louder than Theseus has ever heard, his hips rocking with such force that Theseus has trouble keeping his hands on him. Asterius is achingly gorgeous like this, and Theseus thinks about how Asterius is _his_.

“Asterius,” Theseus whispers softly, and then Asterius’s hips stutter, and he spills, wet and hot across Theseus’s hands.

Theseus wipes his hands on a sheet, ignoring Asterius’s half-hearted grumble, before bunching it up and kicking it off the bed. There’s a fraction of a moment where he hesitates, sitting at the edge, but before he can even fully form the thought of returning to his own room, Asterius reaches out a hand to grip gently at Theseus’s hip.

“Rest a moment, my king.”

Theseus allows himself to be pulled down, and pillows his face in Asterius’s chest. He doesn’t realize he’s been mumbling into Asterius’s skin until Asterius himself draws attention to it.

“Theseus, I cannot hear you when you’re muffled like that.”

Theseus blinks blearily up at him.

“Ah! Hm. I do not actually know what it was I was saying!”

Asterius snorts and begins to gently stroke Theseus’s hair. Theseus shivers (just a little).

“Satisfactory, my king?”

“Oh truly Asterius! Fan _tastic_. For now at least, that is! I do still have further plans for the future!”

An accommodating, vaguely amused sigh; “I do not doubt it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I too, have plans for the future (of this series). Specifically, there’s 4 more (and counting) of these smut oneshots, plus one non-smut interlude. I keep shuffling the order while I edit them, so I’m not sure yet which one I’m giving y’all next, but whichever it is should go up Monday! (Friday’s update will be in the ‘Kings and Monsters and Men’ pre-game series, and is about how Asterius ends up in Elysium.)


End file.
